The Birds
by prxncess
Summary: Meet Emma Swan: mother, detective, and angel. She's just trying to get through her eternal afterlife in one piece. Naturally the universe has other plans for her. When a murder occurs in the divine community, she must enlist the help of angels and demons alike to help crack the case. Enter Killian Jones, a mysterious demon who has every intention of making Emma's life a living hell
1. Happy Birthday

**_I_**

 ** _"It is one to me whether I live or die. All I ask is for love to remain with me" - Joseph Surin, S.J._**

Her story was not a happy one.

People liked to pretend they wanted to hear happy stories, but that wasn't true. People wanted tragedy. People wanted blood, and sacrifice, and star-crossed lovers. They wanted a train wreck. Maybe it made them feel better about their own lives. Maybe it was just more entertaining when things went array. Didn't really matter, she had never been good with people, so naturally she didn't understand their behavior. She would've much preferred a happy story, but she was Emma Swan so she didn't get one. Emma Swan was the living definition of tragedy. Living being a loose term.

Life was funny. Death was funnier.

The irony wasn't lost on her. She was in a lecture regarding the dangers of texting and walking. Her teenage son, Henry, had already zoned out a while back. Normally, she'd give him a nudge and tell him to pay attention, but she let it slide. This was the fourth seminar they'd attended since school started two months ago. Henry went to the best school in Boston, Emma always tried to give her son the very best, but they pushed the issue of safety a bit hard. She was convinced they'd encase all the kids in bubble wrap if the parents would consent. Besides, Henry knew first-hand the dangers of texting and walking.

It's how she died.

Texting and walking.

Not the most glamorous way to go mind you, she would've much preferred a more noble death; saving a baby from a burning building type of thing. Fate had never smiled on her too kindly. So that's why on a perfectly average Tuesday in March she'd walked into a busy intersection, head buried in her phone, and a semi-truck had barreled into her. The force had snapped her spine in two and she had died on impact. To this day, her name was a warning mothers in North Adams, Massachusetts gave their children about looking up from your phone before you crossed the street. It wasn't entirely her fault though; she'd never had a mother to warn her of those particular dangers. It was easier to blame the woman who had left her on the side of a freeway then admit it was just one of the many idiotic moves she'd made in her short life.

Moves that had continued to follow her into her endless afterlife.

How one could have led so sinful an existence and still be granted the Gift, capital G, was well beyond her limited scope of understanding. The universe had a funny way of working itself out. She'll admit it had been quite the experience staring down at her broken, mangled, and clearly deceased body on that perfectly average Tuesday in March. Then there was the fact that no one in her vicinity could see her. She'd waved and screamed and flailed her arms around until she accepted that maybe this was it. Maybe this was what she was condemned to; wandering around for the rest of eternity unable to connect with anyone. It wasn't until she met Mary Margaret that things began to turn around.

When the police had finally identified her, and it had taken awhile because Emma Swan had learned long ago how to be invisible, they set about finding her next of kin. That had quickly turned into a bust, because Emma Swan didn't have any family except for a terrified 6 year old asking what had happened to his mom. What Henry didn't realize was that this mother had been by his side since shortly after her accident. She stuck by him, whispering into his ear that everything would be okay, even though she had no idea what was happening, as police took him into custody. She traveled with him and a social worker as they made their way to Boston. Henry had been temporarily placed into an orphanage in the city as they worked to put him with a foster family. She decided at that moment that maybe this was hell; watching her son be thrown into the same system she had spend her youth trying to escape. This was the thought process she'd been working through when she slammed into Mary Margaret.

She'd seen the woman, a social worker, walking the halls before. She had a jet black pixie cut and wide, green, "trust me", eyes set in an oval face. She was wearing a white, lace blouse with a forest green cardigan and dark blue jeans. She had a soft, comforting way about her which probably helped with the frightened and confused children. Emma scrambled to gather up the papers the woman had dropped when they collided, muttering fumbled apologies as she shoved them into her hands. She could see Henry being ushered down the hallway by his social worker, and she was hastily trying to rejoin him before she realized something was off. Since her death, she hadn't been able to touch anything, since she seemingly lacked a physical form, but that hadn't been the case with this woman. Emma's hand shot out and grasped the woman's wrist, startling Mary Margaret, who locked eyes with her. _Locked eyes with her._

"You can see me?" Emma cried, hand tightening in what had to be an uncomfortable grip around the woman's wrist, although Mary Margaret did not flinch.

The woman looked temporarily confused as she took in Emma's wild expression, before understanding lit up her features. Her eyes suddenly had a mischievous glint to them as though Emma had just told her a secret. "Why of course I can, Blessed One."

"No one else can," Emma blurted. Maybe this woman was crazy, having just referred to her as a blessed one, but she could see her and that was everything.

"The humans can't see you."

Definitely crazy. "Pardon me?" Emma asked, suddenly wary. She straightened up from her crouched position and, because her hand was still grasping her wrist, Mary Margaret followed.

"You're in an ethereal state, it's our basic line of defense when we're in distress. Humans can't see you when you're like this."

"Who the hell is we?" Emma sputtered. She was surprised by the sudden feeling of lightheadedness that came over her when the word "hell" passed her lips.

Mary Margaret's expression shifted back into one of confusion and a expression that Emma easily identified as pity flitted across her face. "Oh my dear, don't you know what you are?"

 **OOO**

"And that is why we must be vigilant while we cross the street!" Henry's teacher's enthusiastic screech pulled Emma out of her thoughts. She joined the other parents in a round of applause for what would _surely_ be a life-saving seminar. The teacher looked incredibly self-satisfied as she exited the podium.

"You ready to go, kid?" Emma asked as she stood up and stretched her legs. Henry immediately copied her actions and Emma had to choke down the lump in her throat at the fact that he was taller than her. At some point, Henry had shifted from her little boy into a man and it scared her. He was growing older and she was forever frozen.

"Yeah, Mom, just give me a minute," Henry replied over his shoulder as someone caught his eye from across the room. She watched as he made his way over to Violet Percy, a girl in his grade that he'd taken a shine to. Emma, of course, had looked into her extensively. She was an honors student, president of the equestrian club, and tutored elementary students on the weekends. Not quite good enough for her son, but Emma could let her slide. Especially given Violet's thoughts towards her son.

Naturally, she had no idea Emma could hear her.

They weren't prayers per say, because Violet's family was atheist (Emma had also discovered that in her research), which meant they were harder to pick up on. When humans prayed, regardless of the religion, Emma's kind heard them. Hearing voices grows old quite quickly, and Emma had learned to tune them out lest they drive her crazy. Thoughts were easier. She had to try and pick those out. It didn't take much effort, but it did require her focus. Luckily, Violet wasn't particularly guarded with her thoughts, and Henry was often on her mind. She liked her son. A lot.

So Emma didn't interrupt him as he made his way over to Violet. She simply watched him out of the corner of her eye while she gathered up her purse. Which is why she didn't see Kim Cardino, President of the PTA, making her way over to her.

"Emma Swan!" the woman called, her voice ringing out so shrilly, Emma was surprised the windows didn't shatter. She briefly debated teleporting to the car. Henry would know where to find her and she could be out so fast people would think her presence was a trick of the light. Anything to avoid Kim "you-buy-your-clothes-at-Target-how-cute" Cardino. But Emma had never been one to run away from a fight so she grit her teeth and turned around.

"Kim! How are you?" Emma asked in a sickly sweet voice. Anyone who knew her knew it was a front, but then again, none of these people knew her.

"I'm a bit put out if I'm being honest with you, Emma! When are you going to join the parent's leadership council?" Kim asked, voice taking on what was supposed to be mock anger. Emma had a special sense for human emotions though, and she could feel the hostility rolling off this woman as if she was being physically hit. Her kind was incompatible with feelings of hostility, vengeance, anger, greed, and all those good things. It made them physically ill. Emma's natural flight-or-fight instincts began to kick in and she realized she needed to get out of here.

Easier said than done.

"Oh, I don't think I'm leadership council material, although I do appreciate the fact that you've considered me."

"Nonsense! Anyone is welcome on the parent's leadership council!" Kim chirped. Emma fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

It was the biggest load of crap she'd heard in a long time. Emma had met some unwelcoming people in her life, but Kim and her army of Prozac-popping, Prada wielding mannequins were the worse. Emma Swan was far from their ideal candidate. Emma was the definition of what they _weren't_ looking for. She knew exactly why Kim was attempting to sequester her into this. Kim was the type of woman who needed to know everything about everyone and wouldn't take no for an answer. The harder you pushed against her, the more Kim Cardino thought you were hiding something from her.

Paranoia was a dangerous thing.

Kim wasn't all bad though. Emma could easily detect the points of light within her. They weren't blindingly obvious, but they were there. In Kim the darkness was simply a facade; it was only surface deep. If you looked a little harder, Kim Cardino was fundamentally a good person. She cared deeply for her children and still loved the husband who was clearly more interested in his twenty something receptionist then his aging wife. Which made it so much harder for Emma to simply brush her off.

Saving people was engrained in her. It was supposed to be the only focus of her afterlife. If a soul was lost, Emma couldn't help but try and drag them back into the light.

"Listen Kim, I really appreciate the offer, but I'm super swamped with work at the moment and you know I'm a single mom. I'm just going to have to pass." Emma gave her a tight smile, the only kind she could muster, and turned to leave, hoping the woman would let it drop.

She felt Kim reach out and grasp her wrist, and Emma couldn't help her instinctual reaction. The hostile vibes Kim had been giving off had already served to heighten Emma's defenses. All it took was that one little touch to cause a physical reaction.

It wouldn't hurt her, just a small electric shock that pulsed down Emma's arm and into Kim's hand. It had the desired effect, the woman quickly released her with a gasp. The look in Emma's eyes was what sent her reeling backwards. She could feel the power buzzing beneath her skin, something eternal and otherworldly begging to be let out. She shoved it down. Utilizing that kind of power had dangerous consequences. Every use pushed you further away from your human self, not to mention the dark path it could drag you down.

"Like I said," she repeated firmly, reigning herself back in, "I just don't have the time." She gave Kim a curt nod that easily conveyed "push me again and I will end you" as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked off to the exit. A part of her felt bad for scaring the woman, but she knew it was necessary to get through to her.

Her kind may be benevolent by nature, but they were not meek.

When she reached the school parking lot she noticed her son standing with a group of his friends a few cars down from her own. He looked up and nodded at her, his gaze telling her he'd be right there. Emma and Henry had a unique relationship, giving birth at 17 would do that, and the two could communicate with simply a glance. Emma always did her best to give her son his privacy, but when his voice carried lowly across the parking lot, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I've got to go, my mom is here," he was whispering and Emma could hear his friends' confused thoughts as to his change in tone. Henry knew she could hear him, but they didn't.

"C'mon man, you said you'd come!" one of Henry's friends, Roland, protested. Henry and Roland had known each other for quite some time. Roland was younger than the rest of the group. He had skipped a few grades because he was incredibly smart. Henry had immediately taken him under his wing at school, keeping the bullies away. Emma had struck up a casual friendship with Roland's dad, Robin. He was also a single parent, his wife, Marian, had died a few years back, so they looked out for each other. If one of them forgot an impending bake sale, or couldn't pick their kid up because of work, the other was there. It was a nice little partnership they had, and Robin didn't ask questions. He knew absolutely nothing about her past or her personal life, and he didn't care and Emma was immensely appreciative of that.

"I've got a lot of work to do and it's a school night," Henry protested weakly.

"Henry it's the new _Captain America_ movie, it got great reviews and you'll be home by 11," another one of his friends, Grace, interjected. Emma had only met Grace on one or two occasions. One of her dads, Jefferson, was a designer at some international fashion company that Emma couldn't pronounce. He was a frenetic man, the type of guy who you met 17 times and who never remembered you. Emma could tell he was well-meaning, but he clearly had ambitions a little too big for other people to understand. Grace's other dad, Artie, was much more laid-back and soft-spoken. He was a therapist, and worked with almost all of Boston's elite. She'd enlisted his help in cracking a case a couple years back, and ever since then they'd been pretty friendly. She had no idea how the two men had found each other, but they worked quite well. That was love she supposed.

"I know you guys, but I really, really can't tonight," Henry protested. Emma was unlocking the car now, still listening intently to the conversation going on.

"Please, Henry," this time it was Violet speaking, in her soft tinkling voice. Violet really wanted Henry to go with them, so she could get some quality time with him. In fact, her desire for him to come was so strong that it was knocking into Emma as though she were outright praying for it. Emma had to keep herself from making the girl's wish come true; her son had strictly forbid her from meddling in his affairs.

"I'm sorry, Vi," Henry whispered and Emma watched out of the corner of her eye as her son's hand wrapped around the girl's. "Another time. Promise," Henry squeezed her hand and she gave him a small smile in return. Emma could feel the disappointment rolling of the girl as her son said his goodbyes and jogged over to their car.

"Violet wants you to go out with her and her friends," Emma whispered.

"I know," Henry replied curtly. Emma knew he didn't like it when she poked around in Violet's head. What he didn't know was that Emma was always tuned into anyone who thought of her son. Violet just happened to think of him often.

"You should go."

"No, today is your day and I'm spending it with you."

"You're being ridiculous. You should be with your friends." Henry would not be held back because of her.

"But Mary Margaret said…"

"I don't care what Mary Margaret said. I'm your mother and I'm telling you to go," Emma snapped and Henry flinched at her rarely utilized "mom tone".

"Are you sure?" She could tell he was wavering if only to avoid having her chew him out.

"Yes," Emma smiled and kissed his cheek. "Anyways it's my day so you have to do what I say."

Henry gave her a brilliant smile before kissing the top of her head and skittering off to join his friends. Emma watched him go before she pulled open the door of her VW Bug and slid in, She threw her purse onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the school parking lot. The drive to her condo was a long one and she was just about to take the left turn that would lead her to the outskirts of town, when she had a change of heart and went right. She didn't particularly want to sit in her empty condo alone and Henry was right about what Mary Margaret said. She needed to do this ritual.

Emma would normally never be caught dead in Whole Foods, but it was the nearest grocery store. She perused the aisles quietly and had to keep from rolling her eyes at some of the things on display. They were literally selling water in boxes and charging three times the price of bottled water because _it was in a box_. She said a silent thank you when she reached the bakery section, because she was about one overpriced strawberry away from bitching an employee out. She quickly plucked an individual vanilla cupcake from the shelf and placed it in her cart. She debated on throwing in some quinoa just so the thing didn't look so sad all on its own, but decided against it when she saw the price. Whole Foods was the sign of the impending apocalypse, she was sure of it.

She did her best to ignore the cashiers' look of pity as she placed her cupcake on the conveyor belt.

"Is it someone's birthday?" the cashier asked as he rung her up.

Emma slammed her money down, she'd already calculated exact change, and picked her dessert up before he could place it in the bag. "I just wanted a cupcake," she replied before she turned on her heel and stalked out of the store. She placed her cupcake in the passenger seat, briefly debated buckling it up, decided against it, and began the drive back to her home.

Emma lived on Blue Hill Avenue near Franklin Field, arguably one of the most dangerous parts of Boston. It'd been home since she'd followed Henry to the city shortly after her accident. One of the perks of being in such a shit neighborhood was that it was a relatively spacious condominium. In fact, that's what had first drawn her here; it was one of the only two-bedroom places she could afford with her salary at the time. Money had begun to come in after she had established herself as a bail bonds(wo)man, but she'd never had the heart to leave. She liked her neighbors (especially the old woman who lived next door, Granny, who often looked after Henry when Emma was away for extended periods of time), and there was something about little orphan Emma that never fit in anywhere "nice". There was also something in her that liked to be around the chaos. Mary Margaret had explained that her desire to help lost souls probably played a role, but Emma had shrugged her off. She liked her crappy little condo; it matched her crappy little life, and so she stayed. The various gangs in the area knew not to mess with her; something in their biological human nature told them they shouldn't incur her wrath. They were right about that.

She trudged up the three front steps that led to her blue front door (Blue Hill Avenue, blue front door, clever, right?). It took her a bit of time to unlock the three dead bolts on the door. The moment Henry went off to college she was removing two of them. Her own life, if you could call it that, didn't mean much to her, but Henry was her everything. She'd put his safety above all else, including her impatient ways.

Her door opened unceremoniously and she shoved her way in, flicking on the lights. She dropped her cupcake unceremoniously on the linoleum kitchen counter, before she began searching for a candle. She found her prize buried in the back of a drawer, it was leftover from Henry's birthday a few months back. Emma popped open the plastic lid on the cupcake and grabbed a paper plate from a cabinet. She placed the candle in the center and stared at the sad sight for a moment. With barely a twitch of her fingers, the wick of the candle caught fire. Emma slouched down so that her forearms were resting on the counter, her chin sitting on top of them. She was alone on her birthday.

She knew Henry would've been here had she asked him to be, but she never wanted him to miss out because of her. She wouldn't even be celebrating this stupid date (it was pointless at this point, she had infinite birthdays), but one of the things Mary Margaret always stressed was the importance of birthdays. It helped them hold onto their humanity, and for Emma, who clung to her human life, that was everything. When Emma stopped keeping track of time, when she stopped marking days and years, that's when _centuries_ would begin to blur together. She just couldn't afford that. Not when everyday her son grew a little bit taller and a little bit older and she stayed exactly the same. So she did the rituals, she did the human thing, in the hopes that one day, maybe, she could fool herself into believing she was one.

"Happy Birthday, Emma," she whispered as she blew out the candle.

She ate the cupcake out of pure habit. She couldn't actually taste human food, and she wouldn't get any sort of nutritional or caloric value out of it, but for a moment she almost tasted the frosting on her tongue. She was just shoving the last bit into her mouth, debating on whether to watch _Grey's Anatomy_ or _House of Cards_ when her cellphone rang. She rolled her eyes as her phone blared out "stop, collaborate and listen," before she could get to it. She'd changed her ringtone to Ice, Ice Baby one drunken night and always meant to change it back to Marimba, but never got around to it. She didn't even need to look at caller ID to know who was on the other end, he always contacted her the night of her birthday.

"What?" she barked out, cupcake sticking to the inside of her esophagus, almost as soon as she slid her finger across the home screen.

"Nice to hear your voice too, birthday girl. How's your day been?" the voice on the other end laughed.

"Uneventful, for the most part. I did nearly get into a fight with a PTA mom, but I restrained myself," Emma smiled and she heard him chuckle.

"Proud of you."

"Thank you for the flowers, by the way," Emma called as she looked back at the daisies sitting on her tiny dining room table. Every year he brought her a new floral arrangement since she didn't have a favorite flower. He always groaned about that, because trust her to be difficult even when it came to botany.

"Anytime, Emma," he laughed.

"So are you going to text me the address," Emma sighed into the phone as she scooped up her keys.

"You sure you don't mind coming in, I hate to bother you on your birthday." Emma could practically see his apologetic wince as though he were standing right next to her.

"You always bother me on my birthday. I'll see you in 20."

 **OOO**

She found him standing just outside the house, hands on his hips as he waited for her. He was wearing sunglasses in the dead of night and she fought the urge to roll her eyes at his antics. She cut the engine and stepped outside into the darkness. It had just begun to rain so she pulled the hood of her (faux) fur-lined black leather jacket up around head.

"David!" She called as she made her way over to him. He whipped off his glasses when he saw her, quickly dashing over to her and pulling her into a bear hug.

"Thank you so much for coming," he muttered before he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back so he could look at her. "I have to say, little sister, you aren't aging very well," he laughed.

David was the only human, besides Henry, who knew her secret. She'd known him since she was 7; they'd bounced around the foster care system together. They'd kept in touch until he'd gone off to Vanderbilt on a football scholarship and she'd run away from the family she'd been living with. He'd tracked her down about five years ago, shortly after her death, and the two had essentially picked up right where they left off. Turns out, he'd followed his dreams and become a police officer in the Boston PD. He'd occasionally call her in on difficult cases, saying that she had a keen eye and a knack for catching bad guys. She knew it was just because he wanted to help her make a little extra cash. Her secret had been spilled one day when a perp had shot her, point-blank, 6 times and she'd been completely unaffected. He'd originally been incredibly skeptical of the whole thing, and right before he'd had her committed, Emma was finally able to convince him by reading his mind. Well, that whole episode had opened up a host of new possibilities and David began calling her in on more and more cases. Emma had quickly discovered that her knack for knowing when people were lying had extended, and even improved, in her afterlife.

So they did the partner thing for a bit, never permanently because Emma refused to be a "real cop". Which is why no one looked at her sideways when David lifted the police tape to give her access to the crime scene. The house they were entering was stunningly beautiful. The architecture was reminiscent of Cape Cod; colonial design, large windows, pitched roof, the whole nine yards. The decor on the inside was beautiful as well, lots of creams and tans with subtle blue accents. David handed her a set of rubber gloves which she quickly snapped on as they made their way upstairs.

"It's the same stuff we've been dealing with every year, three bodies found in an upper-class Boston home. This time it's two women and a man. The message is the same as always, and it appears to have been written in human blood. What's interesting this time, however; is that he appears to have changed his MO," David explains as they make their way down the first floor hallway.

"Really?" Emma asks. Whoever this psycho is, he's been doing the same thing every year. Emma was surprised to learned that had changed.

"Whereas normally the bodies are simply placed next to one another, this time he's done something… interesting to them," David explained as Emma began to enter the room where the crime had taken place. She was stopped when she felt David grip her forearm. "That's not all."

"No?"

"No. There's something unique about these victims, Emma. They're… well they're… perhaps it's easier if i show you," David muttered as he gestured for her to enter.

What was waiting for her in that room was a sight to behold. She'd seen some pretty gruesome sights while on the job, but this definitely took the cake. There were three victims, all appeared to be in their mid-twenties. One of the women was face down on the carpet; the perp had clearly dumped her body unceremoniously on the carpet. She had slash marks up and down her back as though she had been whipped and lacerations on her wrists that suggested she'd been tied up at one point. The second body, the other woman, had been placed in a kneeling position. Her mouth had been taped over and her hands were bound behind her back. The third victim had been impaled on a large metal pole that had been attached to the wall. His body slumped forward and there was severe bruising on his face. Her eyes then traveled to the message written in bright, red blood on the stark, white wall. "Nesir sah roivas eht". The perp had written it at the scene of every single crime. The situation would've been off-putting enough, but there was something more, something that was unsettling deep within her bones.

"Emma, come over here," David called as he walked carefully over to the third victim, the one who had been impaled.

Emma was in the process of making her way over to him, trying to push back the sudden wave of nausea that was overcoming her, when the strangest damn thing happened. She was walking by the kneeling body, when the sudden urge to defend herself kicked in. All of her instincts went into hyperdrive and she had to screw her eyes shut and take a calming breath to keep from lashing out. The feeling was gone just as quickly as it came and she opened her eyes to see David watching her curiously.

"I'm okay," she muttered as she went to stand next to him.

"You sure? You disappeared there for a second," David replied hesitantly.

"I'm fine, just drop it" Emma brushed him off aggressively. She knew it wasn't fair but she hated when people took care of her. "What was it you wanted to show me?" she asked in a slightly calmer tone. David eyed her skeptically, but knew her well enough not to push.

"We were examining the bodies and one of the other men on the force, Graham, you remember Graham?" David asked as he tried and failed to keep his voice nonchalant.

"Graham, the one you tried to set me up with?" Emma replied dryly.

"Yes, that's the one. You never called him back, by the way."

"Seriously? You're going to do this in a room full of murder victims? Seriously?" Emma knew David had her best interests at heart, but _seriously?_

"No time like the present."

" _David_."

"Right, okay, so, Graham was examining the bodies and he came across these," David pulled the victim's shirt down so Emma could get a clear look at his shoulder blades. "I didn't think anything of it at first, but then I thought they looked awfully similar to yours and… Emma? Are you okay?"

She wanted to scream that, no, in fact, she was not okay. She wanted him to get her out of there. She wanted to throw up, or cry, or go fucking nuclear, but all she could do was stare down at the man's backside. It explained why she'd been on edge like never before when she walked into this room. There was something deeper going on here, something far more dangerous than she was equipped to handle.

She looked back down at the two small bumps gracing the man's back. Right where his wings would come out. Which meant…

 _Don't you know what you are?_

Angel.


	2. Queen's Speech

**_II_**

" _ **If you have fun, fine. It's not all life and death." - Bill Palatino**_

It took her a while to get her breathing under control. It didn't help that David was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. It was hard to kill an angel. There were only a handful of ways they could be destroyed, and if they put up a fight it was even harder. Besides, humans had no reasons to kill angels.

But it wasn't just an angel that had been murdered.

She made her way over to the kneeling body, the one she'd had an adverse reaction to. She could hear David asking what she was doing, before he finally realized he wasn't about to get any answers out of her and shut his mouth. She had a sinking feeling about what type of creature this was. A feeling that was quickly confirmed when she tugged down the girl's shirt and saw the two scars on her shoulder blades. It would've been where her wings had been, before they'd been ripped off when she'd succumbed to darkness, at least.

Demon.

Every demon had been an angel at some point. Her kind liked to refer to them as "The Fallen", because demon was supposedly too harsh a term and they _were_ just fallen angels. Angels who'd gone down a dark path for one reason or another. Emma would be lying if she said she hadn't felt the pull of the darkness every now and again. It was like a constant whisper in her ear, a whisper that would get louder if she used her powers, or if something tragic happened. Emma Swan was no stranger to tragedy, so the whisper was pretty constant.

"Emma?" David tried again, and this time she heard him.

"She's a demon," Emma called over her shoulder as she pulled the girl's shirt back up.

"A demon?" David replied incredulously. He'd never seen a demon before as far as she knew.

"Yup." Emma made her way over to the woman on the floor. It was hard to tell with all the lacerations, but Emma couldn't see any bumps or scars. This victim had been human. Emma straightened up and pulled off one of her rubber gloves. She fished her iPhone out of her jean pocket and began taking pictures of the crime scene. She wasn't entirely sure if she was allowed to do that, but she'd need the pictures later and David didn't protest.

"She doesn't look like a demon," David said and Emma turned to see him hovering over the victim.

Emma rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. "Because I look like the stereotypical angel, don't I, Dave?" Emma asked rhetorically as she went to stand next to her brother.

"You know what I mean; I didn't know if demons looked… ya know," David placed one hand on his hip and began to gesture abstractedly in the air. "Evil," he finished.

"Demons, much like angels, can hide their true appearance. Helps them get closer to humans," Emma explained.

"Why would they need to get close to humans?" David asked. Her brother had never truly understood her role as an angel; but accepted it had something to do with helping humanity.

"Oh you know corruption, destruction, and they have this fun little habit of sucking out a person's soul," Emma smirked as she knocked her hip playfully into her brothers'.

David gulped visibly. "Okay, so demons are bad then."

"Demons are bad," Emma affirmed. _Bad_ was a bit of an understatement. Angels and demons, per the stereotype, were mortal enemies. They were constantly involved in a battle between good and evil. It'd had led to some of the greatest confrontations in history; The Hundred Years War, the War of the Roses, the American and French revolutions, the Civil War, and both World Wars to name a few. Things had been relatively quiet in recent years, but Emma wasn't foolish enough to believe that would last. Angels were light and demons were dark; they would always clash.

"But this one was murdered," David, being helpful as always, pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, this one was murdered," Emma reiterated. It was a curious thing. Demons were nearly as hard as angels to kill. The only reason they were easier to destroy was because there were more ways to do it. Whoever had done this had to have been incredibly powerful, or incredibly determined, in order to pull this feat off.

"So, what are we dealing with here? A vigilante? A pissed off human with an agenda against supernatural beings?" David asked.

"I'm not a fucking vampire, angels aren't supernatural beings."

"Sorry I didn't use the right terminology. Besides, you do have wings, much like a bat," David teased and Emma made a grand show of rolling her eyes before she shoved him a little too hard. "Ow," he muttered as he rubbed his bicep.

"I didn't push you that hard." She did. "Anyways, I don't think it's a human. That victim," Emma gestured to the body laying face down on the floor. "Was human and look how it was treated. Whoever this was dumped it like it was trash. Apart from the lacerations on the back, it doesn't seem like he cared very much about this victim." Emma moved to stand over by the angel. "Look at this victim's face," Emma said as she pointed out the bruises. The man's face was still swollen, and it was clear that he'd been severely beaten before he died. "This kind of damage takes serious rage. Not to mention that impaling him on a pole post-mortem was completely unnecessary. This kind of damage implies a personal vendetta."

"How do you know the pole thing happened post-mortem," David asked.

"Angels are an impenetrable bunch and this is a simple metal pole. It wouldn't have moved through his body had this happened when he was still alive." David nodded as he took in her words. She appreciated her brother's never-ending trust in her. None of this could be easy for him to grasp, but he believed everything she told him without hesitation. Faith was what gave angels their strength, and Emma was incredibly reliant on David when it came to hers. "Now over here," Emma said as she crouched next to the demon. "We have our victim posed in a submissive state. They weren't beaten as intensely though, which is interesting."

"What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't watched enough _NCIS_ to be able to give you a concrete answer on that," Emma replied with a smile. David smirked and jerked his head towards the door, and Emma gave him a nod signifying she would follow. She took one last look around the room, shook her head, and began removing her gloves as she exited. She and David exited the house and Emma wrapped her arms tightly around herself when she met the October air. It wasn't that she was cold, the breeze actually felt refreshing against her skin, rather, she was doing her best to hold herself together. This case, these murders, were bad news for angels and demons alike.

David eyed her warily; he knew her well enough to know a breakdown was coming. Emma absolutely hated when she couldn't figure things out, and this mystery and the threat it posed were going to drive her nuts. "What do you want to do?" David asked. Emma knew he wasn't asking how she wanted to proceed professionally, but rather what steps she wanted to take to protect herself and the rest of the, as he'd phrased it earlier, "supernatural" community.

"I'm not sure," Emma responded as she kicked at the wet pavement with the toe of her boot. "I want to know why the hell he chose now to start murdering non-humans. I've been consulting on these cases for three years, but he's been at this for what, nearly a decade?"

"This will be the seventh year, yeah."

"What changed? People don't just flip a switch and break their old habits like that," Emma muttered. She tried to think of a reason, any damn reason, but found herself coming up short.

David placed his hands on Emma's shoulders and crouched down so that he was at eye-level. "Don't stress about this, Emma. We're going to get this whole situation sorted and everything is going to be fine," David smiled before pulling his little sister into a hug.

He was lying. She knew he was lying. She had always had a knack for telling when a person was lying. Maybe it was the foster kid thing, maybe it was just an Emma thing. Didn't really matter. The perp had been at this for seven years and they'd never come close to catching him. He was lying and she knew it, but she hugged him back anyways. "You're right," she muttered.

He wasn't

Something was coming.

And it was going to be bad.

 **OOO**

Emma spent the night pacing around her living room. Henry had gone to bed shortly after he had gotten home, having easily sensed his mom's unease. Emma had printed out the crime scene photos and said a silent thank-you to David, who had insisted she go all out with her printer. They were currently scattered about on her coffee table next to a bottle of whiskey. Emma examined them for the hundredth time as she took a swig right from the bottle. Angels had a much higher tolerance for alcohol; it took them quite a bit to get drunk, but she had managed to catch a buzz at some point in the night. A buzz that was quickly fading and leaving her more and more irritable. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered before she angrily swiped the photos off the table.

"Mom?" a voice called from behind her and she turned to see Henry standing in his doorway. He was wearing his school uniform; white oxford shirt, tan slacks, and a navy blazer which he was currently holding in his hand. One of his eyebrows quirked up as he took in the whiskey she was grasping.

Emma looked down at it like she was surprised it was there. "I've been working on the case," Emma explained as she set it down. She felt like a child whose parent had just caught them doing something they shouldn't be. In a lot of ways, Emma and Henry's relationship had always been like that. He was the adult. He was the one who told her strawberry Poptarts were not their own food group, who always reminded her to unplug her curling iron, and who informed her that doctor's appointments were a yearly occurrence. She'd be completely and utterly lost without him.

Henry gave her a megawatt smile as he shrugged into his blazer before taking a seat on the couch next to her. "Don't worry, I'm not judging. What is it?" Henry asked as he nodded his head to the papers on the ground.

Emma looked down and was relieved to find that none of the pictures were face up. "A murder case. We get one like it every year on my birthday."

Henry's face lit up. "You don't think it's connected to you, do you?"

Emma gave him a small smile. Even after all these years, Henry still believed his mother was of the utmost importance to the world. She never had the heart to tell him if anyone didn't matter, it was her. "No kid, I like where you're going, but no." She could tell he was going to argue with her so she quickly added "what's unique about this one is that the victims included an angel and a demon."

Henry's eyes widened as he took in his mother's words. "Someone killed an angel _and_ a demon? Why?"

Emma looked down at her son, who was full of nothing but excitement at this new adventure, and felt a pang of guilt. What kind of mother dragged their child into this world? Being what she was came with a lot of benefits, but it also meant she and everyone close to her was in constant danger. Emma vowed right then and there, that while she may not be the best parent, she would protect her son at any and all costs. "I don't why someone would do this, but I do know you're going to be late if we don't get going," Emma said as she hoisted herself up off the couch.

Henry quickly followed her lead as he grabbed his bag off the hook by the front door. "You sure you don't want me to stay here with you? Help you crack the case?" Henry asked as Emma pushed on her sunglasses and pulled open the door.

She could tell, not just because angels could tell when someone was being sincere, but also because he was her son, that he had ulterior motives. She slid her glasses down her nose so that he could see her eyes. "What's the test in?" she asked. Henry paused for a moment, and she could tell he was considering making something up. "You know I'll just pluck the answer right out of your head."

"It's a Spanish project," Henry muttered.

Emma gave him a shit-eating grin.

Henry rolled his eyes and walked out the door, throwing a "shut up" over his shoulder as they made their way to the Bug. Emma smiled as she locked the door behind them. She waved to Granny, who was sitting on her front porch knitting a sweater, and walked down to where her son was already pouting in the car.

"Oh cheer up, I'm sure it'll be fine," Emma said as she placed the key into the ignition. It took three turns, a lot of swearing, and maybe just a little bit of magic before the thing finally sputtered to life.

"It's not going to be fine and I think this piece of crap is on its last leg," Henry growled as he stared out the window.

He knew the car comment would get to her, and boy did it ever. "This car is older than you, treat it with respect," she shot back. What pissed her off the most was that he was right, of course he was right, she just wouldn't admit it. Emma had always had a bit of a hoarding tendency. When she was younger it was because she hardly ever owned anything, and she clung to whatever could possibly be considered hers. After she'd died that motivation had changed. She just became so damn tired of things growing, changing, and dying when she never could. So, she never got rid of anything.

The pair of them sat in silence for most of the ride, Emma stewing over her inability to age, and Henry pondering God knows what, as the houses grew bigger and bigger.

They were about a block from school when Henry caved first. "I'm sorry about what I said, I know you're sensitive, I'm just nervous is all," Henry admitted and all of Emma's anger melted away.

Emma placed a comforting hand on her son's shoulder as she pulled into the carpool line. "I know you are, but you're going to be great."

"Yeah, but what if I'm not. Spanish isn't my strongest subject and I need this A," Henry muttered.

Emma knew her son put a lot of pressure on himself to do well in school. Money was tight for the two of them, and Henry tried to alleviate that burden by getting every scholarship in the book. Emma told him he didn't need to do that, but her son always insisted. "Look, no matter what happens, you're still the smartest kid in that school. You and I both know you have the capability to kick ass, so go do it," Emma replied and Henry rewarded her with a small smile.

"Thanks, Mom," he said as he kissed her cheek and exited the car.

Emma watched him walk for a bit before she closed her eyes and performed a little luck magic to help him get through the day. He was nearly inside when Emma, not being able to resist, leaned out the window and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Adios, Don Quixote!"

She swore if she wasn't his mother, he would've flipped her off.

Emma smiled as she pulled away from the school and headed to the closest Dunkin Donuts. She ordered one large, black coffee and a maple donut, and then stared at them both longingly when the barista gave them to her. Not being able to fully enjoy human food sucked. It sucked a lot. She set the coffee in the cupholder and threw the donut into the passenger seat as she made her way to the South End District. Mary Margaret and David had been trying to get her to move to the area for years. It was one of those hip and trendy neighborhoods that was about to become incredibly expensive. It bordered Roxbury, the neighborhood where the two of them worked. Roxbury was a poorer section of Boston, though nowhere near as bad as Emma's neighborhood. It was notorious for its new police station, where David had managed to get a job, and had several child service offices where Mary Margaret worked.

Her best friend and her brother were practically engaged.

It had been incredibly weird at first, and the two of them attempted to pretend like nothing was going on, but Emma was an angel for Christ's sake, they couldn't hide anything from her. In fact, she was surprised she hadn't figured it out from David, given that she could read his mind and not Mary Margaret's, but her friend had let it slip one night. They'd been having a girl's sleepover (not Emma's idea), and Emma had simply asked what color she wanted to paint her toes when Mary Margaret had blurted that she'd been dating her brother for three months. While Emma had insisted that it was fine, although she'd been a little peeved they hadn't told her sooner, it took her another three months to get used to them showing physical affection in front of her. A year and a half later and they were sharing the gorgeous Victorian-style home Emma was pulling up to. She hadn't been surprised when they moved in together, their relationship had always progressed pretty rapidly (granted Emma was infamous for moving at a _glacial_ pace when it came to men), but everything had gone well from there. Besides, the two of them had never been happier, so she had given the relationship her blessing, so to speak.

Emma walked through the front door, donut and coffee in hand, without knocking.

One would think she would've stopped doing that when she walked in on them one time shortly after they bought the house. Then again, Emma was the kind of person who seemingly made the same mistakes over and over again. Just look at all her past relationships.

Thankfully, the two of them were both clothed. David was sliding into his jacket and Mary Margaret was sitting on the couch watching the news. "Hey," Emma called as she placed the donut and coffee into David's hands.

"You're an angel," David smiled as he took a sip of the drink.

"Clever," Emma replied as she gave him a dry laugh. "You ready to go?" she asked Mary Margaret, who turned off the television in response.

She stood up and pulled Emma into a hug, before scurrying up the stairs. "I just need to grab my purse," she explained before she disappeared.

Emma turned to David who was looking at the donut like it was his first and last love. "You're such a cliche; cop with a love of donuts," she laughed as she nodded to the pastry.

"What can I say; I'm a sucker for sweets," David smiled before his expression turned somber. "I didn't tell Mary Margaret about the case."

Emma's eyebrows furrowed at his statement. "You're not the type to keep secrets," she said slowly.

"I know, and I'm not. I just don't want her to worry is all," David explained.

Emma decided not to push him on the decision. He was right, Mary Margaret was definitely a worrier. Still, she hated to keep something from her friend. "All right, she's your girlfriend so I defer to you. But do me a favor," Emma lowered her voice when she heard her friend on the steps. "Let me know when they ID the bodies. I'm gonna do a little digging on the side to see what I can unearth."

"Are you two talking about work?" Mary Margaret called as she bounded down the final two steps.

"Not at all," David lied unconvincingly.

Mary Margaret gave Emma a look that said "humans", before she kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. "We should probably get going, don't want to be late," she smiled as she grabbed her coat and slung her purse higher on her shoulder.

Emma smirked at her brother and placed a hand on his arm. "I'll see you soon. Swing by the house if you get a chance, Henry misses his uncle," she said as she followed her friend out the door.

"I will. Keep doing God's work," David yelled as the women climbed into Emma's car.

They rolled their eyes.

 **OOO**

Emma pulled her hair back into a ponytail and readjusted her surgical mask. She and Mary Margaret charged into the oncology wing in Boston Children's Hospital. Little kids with cancer was one of those things that Emma would never understand no matter how long she lived. She could only imagine what it would be like to be mortal and be powerless to do anything. And if it were Henry who were sick, if it were Henry who were dying and she couldn't do anything…

The thought made her want to die all over again.

Luckily, she could do something. Being divine certainly had its drawbacks, but helping those who needed it was not one of them. In fact, the healing aspect of her powers was nearly enough to make the not aging thing worth it. She and Mary Margaret bounced around from hospital to hospital helping those that they could. Her friend was the one who suggested it might be good for Emma when she walked in to her apartment one day and found her in a catatonic state on the couch lamenting over her uselessness. Emma had been reluctant to join her, convinced that it would only make her more depressed, but all it had taken was one patient and Emma was hooked. She couldn't stop death of course, that was beyond any being's, divine or not, power. Still, she could speed up the healing process, or, in the worst case scenario, ease the dying process. There were the occasional miracles, but Emma had only performed one of those in a moment of desperation and she'd been wiped out for weeks afterwards.

Thankfully, her current patient was pretty easy. She placed a hand on the little boy's shoulder, nodding along as he babbled about Spiderman. Emma watched his mother out of the corner of her eye. The woman was also wearing a surgical mask, the boy's treatments had left his immune system compromised, and was staring at her son with a sad smile. She never left her son's bedside, and as a fellow mother, Emma sympathized with her. Luckily, her son would be fine. Emma could feel the sickness dissipating from the boy's body. It would take the human's machines a bit longer to detect the change, but she was confident in her work. He would survive.

Mary Margaret did not appear to be faring as well. Emma could hear her muttering lowly under her breath; a quiet plea to the light to give the child another chance. Angels took their power from the forces of light and life, whereas demons were children of darkness and death. Emma said a goodbye to the mother and the boy as she walked into the hallway. She continued to watch Mary Margaret as she ripped off her surgical mask. She finally saw her friend's face fall as Mary Margaret placed a featherlight kiss to the boy's temple and walked out.

"Too far gone," Mary Margaret explained as she pushed the mask down. "Had to let him go. Should be painless though," she whispered.

Emma reached out and took Mary Margaret's hand. She had never been good at comforting people, but she knew Mary Margaret well enough to know what her friend needed. "You can't save them all," she replied, giving her a sad smile.

"I just hate when it's kids."

Emma took in the oncology wing, full of children who hadn't been given enough time. "I know, maybe…"

But Emma's words were cut off as the room took on a distinctly colder feeling, as though someone had turned the thermostat down several degrees. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough to get Emma's adrenaline going. Emma watched as Mary Margaret shifted into defense mode. They knew what was coming.

Sure enough, not a moment later the doors to the wing burst open, and in sauntered a demon. He was young, not only did he physically look like he was in his mid-twenties, but he clearly hadn't died all that long ago. The demon had wide-eyes that took in every single aspect of the room and a brunette buzzcut. He looked like someone had pumped a shit load of caffeine directly into his veins. His eyes fell on the two women instantaneously, and he smirked widely as he took in their tense stances.

"Hello, ladies," the demon purred as he sidled up next to them.

Emma watched Mary Margaret step backwards reflexively. Her friend was much older, her instincts were more ingrained within her. She was also a much better angel than Emma. Mary Margaret was good through and through, which meant she tried to avoid fights as best she could unless she was protecting something . Emma was younger, and had far darker tendencies, which is why she walked right up to the man so that their noses were practically touching. "You can't be here. Hospitals are off limits to your kind," Emma growled.

"Quite feisty, aren't you little one?" the wiry man asked in a thick British accent. Emma rolled her eyes at the "little" quip, they were practically the same height. "Ya think I'm scared of a bird?"

"Bird" was a slang term for angel. It was the demons attempt to strip all the majesty and grace of their godly counterparts and turn them into something that they saw as fragile and earthly.

They'd clearly never met a Swan before.

"You may not be frightened of me yet, but I can promise you that you will be if you push me too far. Besides, I'm not the only one who'll dole out a punishment. Your kind doesn't have many rules, but not being in hospitals is one of them, so if you aren't afraid of me, perhaps you'll be afraid of the High Council," Emma spat. She was bluffing of course, demons had only one rule, and that was don't expose your kind, but she was betting that the arrogant, naive prick in front of her didn't know that. She knew she could kick his ass to next Sunday, but she could feel the tension radiating off of Mary Margaret and thought it was best not to engage in a fight in front of the children.

The man's eyes widened in uncertainty and the smile dropped from his face for a fraction of a second as he weighed her words. Then, all too quickly, the smug expression was back and he was leering down at her. "Alright, milady, you win this round," he quipped as he raised his arms in mock surrender and backed towards the door. "I'm sure you and I will be seeing each other again real soon," he said before he made a grand show of bowing to her, turning on his heel, and strutting out the door.

Emma waited until the chill in her bones subsided. She waited until the air stopped humming with electricity. She waited until her muscles relaxed and the blood stopped pulsing through her veins. She waited until she was certain she wouldn't need to pull out her wings and go full kamikaze on that cocky son of a bitch's ass. Then she spoke. "You alright?" she asked her friend, who was clearly coming down off her adrenaline rush as well.

"I'm fine," Mary Margaret sighed as she began to take stock of the children. Kids were always much more perceptive when it came to divine occurrences. They hadn't been taught to tell themselves that angels and demons were pretend, and that anything that suggested otherwise was a trick of the mind. Adults shut their eyes, children did not.

Luckily, none of them seemed too fazed. "That was bizarre," Emma muttered, turning back to the doors where the demon had come in. Maybe they could give her answers. He hadn't looked like he came in to instigate a fight. Hospitals may not actually be off-limits to demons, but that didn't mean they were easy for them to get into. Something in their basic biology kept them from getting too close to institutions like hospitals and churches. They were supposed to be safe havens from whatever went bump in the night. So why go through all the trouble of getting in here, only to walk away?

"You think he was working alone, or on behalf of someone else?" Mary Margaret asked, startling Emma out of her thoughts.

Demons were, ironically, much more social than angels. Their society was incredibly hierarchal. It was all about showing you were dominant, and the best way to do that was to control younger, or less powerful demons. Angels, on the other hand, typically worked alone. Mary Margaret and Emma were actually an anomaly in that sense. "He was definitely a grunt, he probably works for one of the lesser known Fallen given how brazen he's being," Emma replied, but her mind was spinning towards new possibilities.

And dammit if her friend didn't know her. "Emma? What's wrong?" Mary Margaret stepped closer to the blonde, her voice lowering so no one could overhear.

Emma took in her friend's facial expression, her protective stance, and couldn't help but smile. If you'd ask a younger Emma, an Emma who had been bouncing around from family to family, if she'd ever have someone who cared for her this much, she would've denied it. Mary Margaret would die for her, no questions asked. So, Emma decided not to worry her friend with a hunch. "It's nothing, really. Just something that I think could help me with the case I'm working on. I'm going to swing by the station quickly."

Mary Margaret's face told her she wasn't buying it. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked hesitantly. Mary Margaret knew better than to question Emma, but she also worried about her the way a mother worried about her child.

"Finish up here," Emma told her, knowing that Mary Margaret wouldn't leave the children. Emma leaned over and kissed her friend's cheek lightly. "Dinner at your place tonight?"

Her peace offering had the desired effect. Mary Margaret beamed at the prospect of having Emma and, more importantly, Henry over. "Sounds good, I'll see you tonight then."

Emma waved goodbye and walked out the hospital doors, her body instantly tensing at the idea of what she was going to do. Mary Margaret would be horrified that she was the one who planted this idea in Emma's head, but it was the only solid lead Emma had. Demons operated in packs (the idea of cults had to come from somewhere), and if anyone could identify the bodies, it would be a demon.

To catch a killer, she'd need a monster.

 **OOO**

Emma pulled up to the ridiculously grandiose white mansion in the center of Boston and fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was completely and totally over the bright green grass and perfectly manicured hedges were one thing, but the massive fountain in the middle of the circular driveway was a whole other ball game. Not to mention the fact that in the center of the fountain there was a marble statue of an angel. It had a neutral expression on its face and had one hand outstretched as if to bless someone. It would've been ironic on its own, but the real kicker was that it was impaled upon a massive sword.

Regina had always been as subtle as a slap in the face.

Regina Mills was the most powerful demon in all of Boston, and, arguably, the entire Cape. She was old too. No one knew exactly _how_ old, but rumor had it she had purchased this house from Benjamin Franklin.

The rumor was whether she purchased it or he gave it to her.

Most angels wouldn't visit this place if you offered them a million dollars. Regina had a knack for wielding dark magic and had a reputation of being cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless. Emma had never paid much attention to reputations. Besides, she and Regina were on relatively neutral terms because of Henry.

Henry had been 9 when he said he desperately wanted to trick-or-treat at the big, white house in the center of town. Emma had shut him down, hard. Her son hadn't liked that very much. So, two weeks after Halloween he took a city bus to Regina's house after school and knocked on her door with a shopping bag and a sheet over his head.

Regina had been unamused.

Emma had been furious.

Still, the visit had piqued Henry's curiosity, and so he made frequent visits to Regina's when his mom looked the other way. Somewhere along the line, Henry went from being a nuisance, to something that was ignored, to company Regina really enjoyed. When Henry had found out what Emma was, he'd also learned of Regina's nature. The demon had initially been nervous Emma's son wouldn't take it well, but, if anything, it just made Henry more fascinated with the woman. So the two of them would have a meal together about once a month, and Regina and her posse left Emma alone so long as Emma "didn't get in her way". Emma had never actually visited Regina's home, and she wondered if Regina would refrain from killing her when she found out Emma's favor. She doubted it.

Emma picked up the heavy, ornate knocker (it was a snake head, would the irony ever cease?), and let it drop unceremoniously against the door. Dramatic flair had never been her forte. She doubted she would've been able to knock twice anyways, because the door flew open the moment the snake head touched it. In front of her stood a middle-aged black man who was regarding her like she was a dead possum on his doorstep.

"Sidney Glass. What do you want?"

Emma went ahead and assumed his name was Sidney Glass, because otherwise that made no sense. "Um, I'm Emma Swan-"

"I know who you are," Sidney interrupted. "I know everything. You didn't answer my question. What do you want?" He clearly was not in a chatting mood.

Emma let out a huff. "Is Regina here?"

Sidney looked her up and down slowly, and made no show to hide his obvious disdain. "And what, pray tell, would Her Majesty want with you?"

Emma let out a humorless laugh. "You call her, Your Majesty?" she asked dryly.

Sidney's eyes narrowed into beady little slits. "We're done here," he dismissed as he began to close the door.

Emma slammed her hand up against the door and shoved back, allowing a little extra magic to pulse down her arm so Sidney couldn't stop her. The man stumbled backwards as she charged forward into the house, clearly unprepared for her to fight back. "You're right," Emma replied as she took stock of the black and white tiled foyer and marble staircase. She turned back to the little demon in front of her "we're done here."

Emma followed the cold feeling down the hallway, Sidney yelling at her as she began opening doors trying to find the Queen Bee herself. She knew Sidney wouldn't hurt her; Emma had always had a powerful brand of light magic, and she could tell Sidney was all bark, no bite when it came to his own. Angels had the power of assessment. They could get a feel for how strong their enemies were before they charged into battle with them. Sidney wasn't bringing much to the table.

As Emma continued down the hallway, she could tell Regina really appreciated her black and white. The tiled floors shifted into black hardwood as she continued through the house. She could tell she was getting closer the lower the temperature dropped. Emma swallowed the bile in her throat and forced her wings to stay tucked away as she moved deeper and deeper. Finally, she reached a set of french doors, and, judging by the way Sidney's yelling grew louder, she sensed she finally found her target.

"Regina!" Emma yelled as she bursted into the room. She wasn't prepared for the two other demons in the room. Clearly, she'd walked into some sort of business meeting, because they all stood huddled around a glass desk. Naturally, the two moved to protect Regina, hissing and snarling the whole way. Emma held her hands up, both as a way of telling them she meant no trouble, but also warning them trouble was exactly what she would cause if they didn't back off. "We need to talk."

The older woman pursed her blood red lips and smoothed her hands over her immaculate black dress. "Miss Swan, what an absolute displeasure. How the hell did you get in here?" Regina asked, casting a withering look towards Sidney.

Sidney shrank under her gaze. "She wouldn't take no for an answer, she practically threw me against a wall."

Emma shot him a look and rolled her eyes. "That's an exaggeration if I've ever heard one. I just need to talk to you." Emma looked pointedly at the two demons in front of her, "Privately."

Maybe it was something in her tone of voice, but Regina nodded and waved her hands to dismiss the two demons. The gave her an "are you crazy" look, but didn't disobey. They'd never disobey. As soon as the door shut behind them Regina turned to Emma with what almost appeared to be genuine fear. "Is this about Henry?" Regina asked, voice taking on a worried tone.

"What? No," Emma replied. "Henry's fine, this is about something going on in our world. Someone, or something, is killing angels and demons," she explained.

Regina sighed dramatically and took a seat at her desk. "And this concerns me, how?" She pulled out her laptop and began clicking away at it.

Emma had figured she would be difficult, but she never imagined she would be _dismissive._ She quickly took out her phone and pulled up the photos she'd taken. "Perhaps you didn't hear me," Emma spat as she slammed the laptop closed, nearly taking Regina's fingers off. She shoved the phone in the Demon Queen's face, "Someone is murdering angels and demons. In brutal, vicious, painful ways like some kind of sociopath. _This_ concerns you."

Regina gave Emma a look that suggested she could not be more bored if you made her watch paint dry, but she picked up the phone. Her eyes grew just a touch wider as she scrolled through the photos, and by the end Emma could see just a hint of worry on her face. "So what do you want me to do?" Regina asked. "Punish the person who did this?"

Emma sighed and took her phone back. "We don't know who did this," she admitted.

Regina laughed and leaned back into her chair. "Of course you don't. You and the J. Crew model couldn't catch a killer if I murdered someone right in front of you."

Emma half expected Regina to kill someone just to prove her point. Then a thought struck her. "J. Crew model? You mean my brother?" Fear sat thick in Emma's throat. Regina couldn't know about David.

As if she read her mind, Regina gave her a twisted grin. "Oh, Miss Swan, I know everything." Regina paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before she let out a little huff. "Now if there's nothing I can do, I suggest you go, before I let one of my employees rip those pretty little wings right off."

Emma rolled her eyes at the empty threat. Regina would never hurt her so long as doing so would hurt Henry. "I didn't say there wasn't anything you could do. I need you to see if you can ID the demon for me, and maybe see if anyone in your circles can ID her as well."

If looks could kill, Emma would be dead by now. "What is it you think I do all day, Miss Swan? Sit around and wait for you to come in and recruit me to solve a case like this is _True Detective_?"

Emma handed her the phone back. "Just look," she sighed. This was feeling more and more like a fool's errand.

To her credit, Regina took the phone. She studied the photo for what felt like forever, and just as Emma was about to give up, Regina slammed her hand down on the table. "Shit," she breathed.

"What, what, what? Do you know who it is?"

"No," Regina began and Emma was about to ask her what the commotion was for when the older woman held up a hand to silence her. She double tapped Emma's screen and turned the phone so the angel could see it. Regina had zoomed in on the woman's wrist where a tiny, black tattoo had been inked. "Do you know what that is?" Regina asked.

Emma studied the image. "Um, a weird looking, upside down J?"

Regina looked at Emma like she was the dumbest person she'd ever encountered in her centuries of being alive. "Boston PD clearly doesn't have its finest working on this case," Regina spat. Then, "it's a hook." Regina spun in her chair so she was facing her phone and began aggressively punching numbers.

Emma studied the image for bit, she could see the hook now, but was still confused. "I don't get it," Emma admitted as she pocketed her cell.

Regina held up a perfectly manicured finger as the phone rang. Emma heard a voice on the other end of the receiver and then Regina began speaking. "Put him on the line," she hissed. Emma could tell the other person was speaking, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Angels and demons had heightened senses, which meant Regina had her phone volume ridiculously low if Emma couldn't make it out with magical hearing. Then again, being Queen Demon meant that Regina probably had a lot to hide from those in the divine community. "Listen to me you little imp," the queen spat. "If you do not put him on the phone _right now,_ I'll show you what hell really looks like!" she screamed, and Emma flinched instinctively at the volume of her voice. "Don't you dare hang up on me, Smee!" He clearly didn't listen, because with no warning she picked up her phone and threw it against the wall with such force that it shattered.

The two demons from earlier rushed in at the noise and quickly turned on Emma as though she were the source of all the distress.

"Get out!" Regina roared and Emma had never seen two people move as quickly as those two did.

Emma was beginning to understand the reputation Regina had made for herself. She watched as the demon pressed two fingers on her temples and attempted to calm down. Emma took the quiet moment to get her own instincts under control. She was digging her nails in her palm in an attempt to keep herself grounded and out of an ethereal state. When she was around demons, or when a situation got out of hand, she often couldn't control what her body did. She prayed this wasn't one of those times.

Luckily, Regina seemed to get it together. "I'm calm, I'm calm," she muttered to herself as she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from her desk and began to write something down.

"Do you know who the demon is?" Emma asked.

Regina folded her paper and looked up. "No," she replied. She pushed a button on a small intercom on her desk and Emma heard Sidney ask what she needed. "Send in Will Scarlet," Regina demanded and removed her finger before Sidney could reply.

"What was all that then?" Emma asked as Regina yanked open her laptop and began typing furiously on it.

She didn't look up. "I know someone who does; the man who was her keeper. You're going to New York," Regina said as she closed her laptop.

Emma leaned over her desk and got up in Regina's face. She'd reached her limit. "Regina, I can't go to New York. I have a job and a kid and I can't just… leave."

"Your job is to catch the person who did this. That now involves going to New York, and I'm sure the model and his back-to-nature angel of a girlfriend love children," Regina laughed without humor.

Emma was going to protest, tell her no way in hell could she go to New York. Not until she got a proper explanation at the very least, but she didn't get the chance because someone walked through the door.

"Ah, Will. Meet Emma Swan," Regina smiled.

Emma turned to see no one other than the wiry demon from the hospital. He gave her a wide, blinding grin when he saw her and proceeded to bow, again, in front of her. "You," Emma growled.

Will straightened up and sauntered over to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder which Emma quickly shrugged off. "Told ya we'd be seein' each other, angel. Though I must admit I didn't expect it to be so soon. Guess God is smilin' down at me, aye?"

Emma suppressed the urge to punch him in the face. "My lucky day," Emma spat, before she turned to Regina. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to New York, and I'm especially not going to New York with _him_."

Regina had clearly had enough of the conversation and was staring at them as though they were bickering children. "Yes, you are going to New York, and yes you are going with Will. He'll help you get in, and then the rest is up to you, Miss Swan. You were right, there's something larger at work here, and we're going to have to," Regina swallowed melodramatically as if it were difficult to say. "Work together if we want to find who's doing this. Now, this piece of paper has the hotel he's staying at," Regina offered the slip to Emma, but she kept her arms crossed over her chest and stared at the ceiling. The Queen rolled her eyes and gave the paper to Will. "I'll send you instructions. Be careful, he's dangerous, and," Regina widened her eyes like she was already exhausted, "greatly unhinged."

Emma stood there, stewing, until she decided Regina was right. She was loathe to admit it, but Regina was right. Emma threw her arms up in exasperation, "Fine, dammit! But if I have to go on a wild goose chase, can I at least get the guy's name?"

Regina gave her a wicked grin and Emma realized she had no idea how big of a storm was coming her way.

"Killian Jones."


	3. Devil's Advocate

**_III_**

 ** _"The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference." - Elie Wiesel_**

New York City.

The city that never sleeps.

The Empire State.

Concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

You get the picture.

Throughout her afterlife, Emma had always done her best to avoid Manhattan. For such a tiny island, the city was a breeding ground for all types of riff-raff. She wasn't sure if it was the pace, or the people, but demons flocked to New York from all across the world. All that dark energy put Emma incredibly on edge.

Will Scarlet threatened to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

He had seemingly made it his life's mission to grate on every last nerve she had. It had started on the train ride up, when he'd fallen asleep on her shoulder fifteen minutes after they'd pulled away from Boston. She'd pushed him off several times, but he always seemed to work his way back over to her. Then, when he'd finally awoken from his slumber, he had insisted upon playing an idiotic game he had made up; "Sinner or Saved." It consisted of Will picking out other passengers who he thought he could corrupt, and Emma then deciding if she could save them or not. Emma, of course, had refused to play, so it was mostly Will talking to himself.

"Come on then, Angel. You always such a downer?" he'd asked after his fifth round with himself.

Emma had debated simply not giving him a response, but had cracked when he'd given her a goading smirk. "I don't think making snap judgements about humans, deciding their fate without knowing them, is fun. Maybe that makes me a downer, but then I never really cared much for the opinion of a demon," she'd growled.

Will had quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't mean to upset you, darlin'. I'm just tryin' to bond with ya, seein' as how the two of us are goin' to be spendin' a lot a time together."

"Like hell," Emma had ignored the slight sting when she'd said the word. "Under no circumstances are you and I going to be spending a lot of time together. We're going to go get this Killian Jones guy, and then we're getting back to Boston and never seeing each other again." Another thought had quickly crept into the back of her mind. She had leaned a little bit closer, invading his personal space just enough to make him uncomfortable. She'd narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. "While we're chatting though, do you want to tell me what you were doing at the hospital that day?" she'd asked. Her tone had been light, but she'd made sure that the threat was still there. She'd asked a question, and they both knew there was no way she wasn't getting an answer. Will's face had darkened, which had prompted Emma to push on. "Did you know I was there? Did Regina send you?"

Will had studied her for a long time, so long that Emma had begun to grow worried. The adrenaline had begun rushing through her veins, and she had nearly gone into an ethereal state, before he had finally spoken. "I wasn't there for ya. Had no clue you were even in the buildin' until I was on me way out."

"And you just decided to pop by?"

Will had shrugged. "Call it the demon in me, but I wanted to see if I could cause a stir. Didn't really mean no harm."

And for some reason, Emma had believed him. That still left one question, though. "So, why were you there in the first place?"

Will had paused and seemed to make a decision, a small smile working its way back onto his face. "You been asking me a lot of questions. Tell ya what, I answer this, and I get to ask you one question. Can be any question I want, and you have to answer it truthfully." He had extended his hand. "Deal?"

Emma had known she was walking a fine line. Demons were not bound by their word, but when angels struck up a deal, they had to follow through. Didn't matter how long it took, they couldn't back out. She wasn't sure what the punishment was, but some long buried survival instinct told her it would be bad. In spite of all this, she'd taken Will's hand. "Deal."

The demon had smirked, then, "I was visiting me sister."

"Your sister? You have living family?" Emma had asked.

"Don't sound surprised, Angel. You have a son," Will must've seen something flicker in her eyes at the mention of her son, because he'd added, "Regina told me. No need to worry about me, I'm all bark no bite."

Emma had smiled in spite of herself. "How old is she?"

"Just turned twenty," Will had answered, his face falling.

If his sister was only twenty, Will must not have been that old. How long ago had he died, and, more importantly, why had he taken the dark path? "Why is your sister in the hospital?"

Will had flinched. "That is a tale for another day."

Emma had accepted his answer. "Right. Well what's your question then?"

He'd acted like he was mulling it over; waiting an agonizingly long time before he said; "I think I'll save it." Will had said it in a way that was clearly meant to goad her; he had been issuing a challenge. He'd given her a toothy grin as he leaned back in his seat, clearly very satisfied with himself.

Emma had started, unprepared for that. "What? That wasn't part of the deal." She'd felt her defenses going back up as she remembered what she was dealing with.

He had seemingly read her mind, because he'd leaned in so their faces were nearly touching, enjoying Emma's obvious discomfort. "Don't ya know, Bird," he'd whispered. "Never make a deal with a demon."

 **OOO**

"Emma!" Will called, voice breaking her out of her reverie.

Maybe it was because she was a mother, but she could already tell he was going to complain. "What," she snapped as she weaved between bodies on 9th Avenue.

Will didn't disappoint. "How much farther? My feet hurt. Why didn't we take a cab?"

Emma rolled her eyes. She had made him walk the thirty blocks from Penn Station to the hotel Killian Jones was at. The main reason was that she didn't feel like sharing another confined space with Scarlet. The other, more selfish, reason, was that she really wanted to torture him, and he didn't seem like the walking type. She was right. He wasn't. "We're only a couple blocks away, Will. You'll make it," Emma called over her shoulder. Sure enough, she could see the all glass skyscraper, the Time Warner Center, which housed the hotel they were heading to; the Mandarin Oriental, looming overhead. It had begun raining as soon as they'd arrived in New York, and the building gave off a foreboding vibe against the grey sky.

Will huffed behind her. "Yeah, but I haven't fed in days."

A demon's feeding consisted of sucking the life out of a human, or rather, taking a piece of their soul. Demons typically surrounded themselves with human lackeys who allowed The Fallen to feed on them at their leisure. They were known as animae in the supernatural community, which roughly translated to "souls" in Latin. Every time a demon took a soul, every time they sucked away a memory, or a personality trait, a human became less… human. After a few years, there was nothing left for a demon to feed on, so the animae were typically discarded. Emma had seen a couple of anima who had reached the end of their usefulness at Regina's place. Their bodies looked as though a strong breeze would blow them away, and their faces held no signs of life. They looked like the worst kind of drug addicts.

As an angel, Emma could detect the various degrees of light and dark within creatures. Angels were basically big beacons of light. Some, like Mary Margaret, shone brighter than others. Demons, on the other hand, were walking balls of dark energy, which is what made Emma and other angels avoid them, and vice versa. Humans could hold varying degrees of light and dark, and where angels and demons were relatively fixed in their levels (except, of course, when an angel made the transition to the dark, but that was a whole other can of worms), humans could be swayed one way or another. That's where the war between demons and angels stemmed from; both were constantly fighting to drag humans to their respective sides. It was an ageless war, but one that had to be fought.

That's what was most depressing about the animae. They had nothing. They weren't good, they weren't bad, they didn't hold any light or dark energy. Everything was just blank. It repelled Emma in ways that even demons did not. They were mindless drones; the life had literally been sucked out of them. The icing on the cake was that demons had the option to feed on those who were dying. People who were already on their way to a better place, and wouldn't be affected. Most chose not to though, because apparently the more lively the soul, the more potent the feed, and they'd never take into consideration the lives they were altering.

Maybe that's why Emma's blood boiled at Will's comment. Maybe she was just at her limit, but she quickly whipped around and jabbed an angry finger into his chest. "Pardon me if I don't have much sympathy for your plight. Complain again and I can promise you, you'll regret it." As if to prove her point, thunder boomed overhead, and the rain seemed to come down a little bit harder.

Will seemed surprised at her outburst. For all their back and forth, he'd never seen Emma genuinely angry. He gave her a sharp nod. "Understood, Angel," he said, before skirting around her and heading towards the hotel.

Emma almost felt bad. It wasn't his fault that she was so on edge. She vowed to at least attempt to be civil with him the rest of their trip. They were on the same side, after all, despite their… differences. Emma sighed. "Will," she called as she jogged after him.

The young demon turned around; he'd reached the entrance of the hotel. He was wearing a smile, and Emma was grateful nothing seemed to phase him. "This is it. Can you feel it?"

Sure enough, as soon as she landed beside him, Emma felt her stomach drop to her feet. She could taste bile rising in her throat, and the hair on the back of her neck raised. She could feel the two familiar points of pressure on her shoulder blades where her wings were instinctively pushing to come out. Whatever was waiting for them on the inside was going to be bad. "Let's do this," Emma sighed.

Will looked over at her. He appeared to be thriving off the energy that was making Emma uneasy. His face fell ever so slightly as he noticed her obvious discomfort. "Nothing's going to happen to ya, Emma. We're just 'ere for a chat," he reassured.

Emma gave him a nod. "I just want to get it over with," she replied as she went to go inside.

"And we will," he said before he tugged her backwards by her arm. Emma gave him a questioning glare. "But first, you need to change. They're not going to let you past the first checkpoint dressed like that."

Emma scoffed. "My clothes are just fine."

"No they aren't. Jones has demons everywhere; you won't get past the lobby. We need to… distract them from the fact that you're an angel. Once you get up to Smee, his right hand, that's when the real work begins," Will explained.

Emma rolled her eyes; she knew exactly how Will planned on distracting them. "And where do you suggest we find me new clothes?"

Will smiled and began to pull her further down the street. "It's New York City, Birdy. I'm sure we'll find something."

 **OOO**

American Apparel is what they found.

She was currently decked out in some skintight, latex red dress with black, stripper heels to match. The ensemble would've been bad enough had it actually fit her properly, but Will had insisted she wear something that was two sizes too small. So, now her boobs were pushed up to her chin, she was one step away from a nip slip, nothing was left to the imagination, and she couldn't move.

She was going to murder him.

He'd been right though, she looked like a prostitute, but the outfit had done the trick. She'd shuffled into the Time Warner Center's ground floor, and all the demons on post had lost the ability to speak, let alone put up a fight. Typical, that he'd only have men working. Never send a man to do a woman's job.

"Nice work, Angel," Will praised with an unabashedly amused grin as they rode the elevator up to the top floor where Jones was staying.

Emma resisted the urge to punch him. "Normally, I'd yell at you, but I'm losing oxygen to the brain, so I'm going to refrain."

"Lucky me," Will laughed before his expression turned somber. "As soon as the doors open, we're going to be in the thick of it. The boys downstairs were amateurs, the people up here are going to be the real deal. I'm going to try and track down Smee immediately, but it's possible we may be stopped before then. Just play dumb and let me do the talking," the demon explained as he gripped Emma's forearm tightly. They'd agreed that it would be best if he manhandled her to give the appearance that she was weak. "And Emma," Will said, mouth setting in a grim line. She wasn't used to seeing him so serious. "You cannot go into an ethereal state. No matter what happens, they can't think you're a threat. If they do, it doesn't matter how well-connected you are, it doesn't matter if you're Regina's favorite person, they will kill you. He will kill you."

She didn't have time to respond, she didn't even have time to process his words because the elevator doors were opening.

He hadn't been lying. Whereas the demons downstairs had looked like teenage band groupies, the two men standing in front of her looked like Marines. They instantly stiffened when the two of them came off the elevator, eyes skipping right past Will and landing on her.

She didn't know what she'd expected. That they'd simply not realize what she was? Any hope of that was gone as soon as their harsh gazes met her own. They hated her on sight; it was their nature. Maybe it was because she'd been spending time with Will, who was so unfazed by it all, that she'd forgotten the most basic instinct the divine community possessed.

Hate what you're not.

Luckily, Scarlet seemed like he'd been prepared for their reaction. He sauntered right up to them with an irritating amount of confidence. Emma did her best to look confused and stumble along, as though she had no idea what she was doing there.

"Looking for Smee," he said as though it was the most natural explanation in the world as to why an angel would be here.

One of the guards, the beefier of the two (his neck appeared to be the same width as his shoulders), eyed them skeptically. "What business do you have with him?"

Will's grip on Emma's arm tightened. "That's classified information. If you could just point me in his direction, I'd be very appreciative."

Emma watched as the two demons exchanged a glance, and then they began to slowly advance forward. "Unless you can tell me exactly why you're looking for Mr. Smee, I suggest you leave. We don't take well to Birds," the meat-headed demon spat. The message was clear, they were not welcome, and they'd be removed by force if necessary.

Emma was beginning to grow agitated and instinct was kicking in. She knew he could feel her tension, and she assumed he'd get them out of there. To her surprise, Will did not back down. "Listen up, gents. This concerns three people. Me, Mr. Smee, and Hook," Will hissed the last name as though it were a curse. Emma had been unaware that that was what he was referred to in his own circle, but it explained the murder victim's tattoo. Regina must've given Will that piece of information. Will quickly continued, "So if you want to go in there and tell The Boss why you're holding me up, go right ahead. Although, I think we all know how that's going to go for the two of you."

Emma had yet to see Will's "dark side". Maybe it was because he was young, maybe it was because he was just better at hiding it than others, but Will Scarlet still had a little light left in him.

But here, in the hallway of a hotel in New York City, Emma couldn't see any light in him. He was all darkness, and he had enough in him to rival the men in front of her. If she was confused as to how someone as seemingly carefree as Will was a demon, she wasn't anymore.

This was also the first time she would understand just how much power Hook held over those who knew him. As soon as Will merely mentioned his name, the other two demons grew nervous. When they finally pointed them in the direction of Smee, Room 2660, she was amazed that the men were more afraid to question Hook and be wrong, than let an angel walk around freely.

As soon as they were out of sight, Will let out an audible sigh of relief. "Nice work," Emma muttered, still tense from their encounter.

The demon was clearly feeling the same. "We're not in the clear yet," he whispered as he shoved Smee's door in.

He was sitting at a large, ornate wooden desk. In fact, the desk was the only thing in the sizable hotel room. Papers were scattered all over the surface and the man in question sat hunched over, studying them intently. Emma and Will stood there for an unusually long time before Smee finally glanced up at them. His jaw quickly went slack as he took in two figures in front of him, and for a while, the only expression on his face was surprise. Emma knew how he felt.

William Smee was not what she'd been expecting.

He was a small, portly man with soft features. He had an old, grimy red beanie pulled over his head, and his beard appeared to have a few crumbs in it (what he had been eating, she could not imagine, since demons didn't need to eat…). He looked like a younger, shorter Santa Claus.

All that would've been good and well, demons came in all shapes and sizes, but there was something about this man that was decidedly non-threatening. Which was surprising, given his ranking in Hook's inner-circle. Clearly, Jones had a considerable amount of faith in Smee's ability to take care of business, so maybe Emma was missing something.

There was something vaguely rat-like about the man gaping at her.

"Wha? What are you? Who are you?" Smee stuttered as he waved a pudgy finger between the two of them.

Will laughed. "Eloquent as ever, Smee." He dropped Emma's arm and made his way over to Smee, clearly enjoying how flummoxed the other demon was.

That piqued Emma's curiosity long enough to quell her anxiousness. "Do you two know each other?" she asked as Will perched himself on the edge of the desk. Maybe it was the fact that Smee was just not an intimidating person, but she was beginning to feel a bit more in her element. She leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest, a silent warning that no one was leaving until she had what she needed.

"Smee and I know each other informally, so to speak. We've shared the occasional late night phone call when our bosses needed to coordinate, but this is the first time we've met in person," Will explained, the smile never leaving his face as Smee's face looked more and more confused.

That caught his attention. Smee slammed both hands onto the desk and stood up. Emma could tell that, if she was standing next to him, he'd barely clear her shoulders. "Who are you?" Smee repeated.

Will extended a hand, ignoring the other demon's obvious irritation. "Will Scarlet," Smee's eyes widened in recognition before Will gestured to Emma. "That angel over there is Emma Swan, she's with Boston PD. We're here to see Hook."

If Smee had been confused before, he certainly wasn't now. In fact, his face had the same sour expression everyone else's did when Regina was brought up. "Ms. Mills sent you," Smee sighed as he sat back down at his desk.

Will nodded. "You lot weren't being very accommodating, so we decided to pay you a visit. Now you know how Regina can be when she doesn't get her way, so I suggest you take us to see Hook."

Smee gave the pair a sneer. "You can tell Regina that Hook says to shove it; he could care less what she wants." Smee smirked when Will's face fell. He had clearly anticipated Regina's name having some sort of weight. "I'm going to advise the two of you to leave, before I get someone to throw you out."

Emma watched as Will turned to her wearing a defeated expression, and she knew he said to let him do the talking. She knew he told her not to get involved. She knew she was in way over her head.

She knew all that.

So she couldn't explain why her feet carried her over to Smee's desk. She couldn't explain why she leaned over, stopping only when she could smell the scent of death on his breath. She couldn't explain why she said, "Take us to Hook," in a soft whisper, voice sickly sweet.

She really couldn't explain why he silently leapt up and did just that.

 **OOO**

Divine beings had considerable influence over human action. They could get them to do their bidding with a wave of their hand. It was only when a human possessed abundant amounts of free will, when they were completely dead-set in their ways, that things became a little dicier. Angels typically only used this ability in dire circumstances, demons, per their nature, utilized the power more frequently. Their was only one rule, or, rather, one limitation, to the ability. It didn't work on other members of the community.

At least, that's what Emma told herself as she followed a dazed Smee down the hotel hallway. When she'd spoken to him, when she'd told him what to do, she had felt the familiar push-pull that came with using the power of influence. Smee had certainly acted as though he were in the trance. But that was impossible.

So when Will grabbed her arm and whispered "What did you do?" in her ear as they walked, she simply shrugged.

"Maybe it was my boobs," she replied with a smirk.

"I doubt it, but good show," Will laughed quietly, elbowing her in the ribs.

Smee led them to the end of the hallway, and wordlessly pulled out a key card when they reached a door marked "Presidential Suite". He held open the door and gestured for them to enter, following right behind them, before slamming the door shut.

Twelve pairs of eyes landed directly on her.

All the demons in the room appeared to be in varying states of intoxication. They were in a sitting room that, she assumed, connected to the Master Bedroom. Bodies were sprawled out over ornate looking furniture, and in a chair to her right was a very famous aging rock-star. A wooden table sat at the back of the room between two french doors that was covered in top-shelf liquor. The oriental rug beneath their feet had probably been beautiful at one point, but was now stained with alcohol, blood, and God only knows what else. It didn't go unnoticed that 80% of the people in the room were women. Women who were dressed in ways that put her own ensemble to shame.

The lion's den was, more or less, a brothel.

She scanned the faces of the few men in the room, trying to figure out which one was him. Hook. They all seemed too old, or too young, or too not what she was picturing. Granted, Smee had surprised her, but none of them seemed right. None of them seemed -

"Well, would you look what the light dragged in," a voice called.

Emma whipped her head to the left, and Holy Mother of Leather there he was, standing in the doorway to the master bedroom. He was looking at her, only her, with a smirk that didn't meet his kohl-rimmed, startlingly blue, eyes. Jet black hair had been swept slightly to the side, so that it didn't hang in his eyes, and he had just the right amount of scruff. She wasn't being melodramatic about the leather either; he was decked out in it, from his pants, to his jacket. Speaking of pants, his clung to his form so snugly, she wasn't confident she'd be able to fit in them. They'd make quite the pair side by side, both in their skin-tight outfits. He was also wearing a black, button-down, which wasn't doing much in terms of coverage, because he'd only done the bottom three buttons. It did give her a nice view of his chest, so she wasn't complaining, per se. His left hand was covered in various gaudy rings, but that wasn't the real show-stopper. No, what really set Emma on edge was his right hand. Or, should she say, right hook. His right arm ended in a glistening, silver hook, which is clearly where he'd gotten his name. Clever. Why he'd chosen that attachment was something she'd probably never find out, but she guessed it wasn't a story she wanted to know.

He was gorgeous. He was also incredibly dangerous.

Hook was the carnal manifestation of sin, she was sure of it.

She knew demons were meant to be attractive, as to lure in humans, but he seemed excessively good-looking. It almost didn't seem fair, and she couldn't help but imagine how beautiful he'd been before he'd fallen, before bitterness and hate had touched him. But, Emma had never been one to let a pretty face veer her off her course of action, so she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eyes. "Hook," she nodded.

The demon in question looked her up and down; sizing her up. Just then, a small blonde woman slinked out of the bedroom. She paused in the doorway and handed Hook a glass of rum. The female demon looked at him, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, but Hook's eyes never left Emma, so she quickly sulked off. "So," Hook started in his soft British accent as he began to saunter over to Emma. She didn't back down. "Do you want to tell me how you got in here?" Hook's eyes darted over to Smee, who was seemingly coming out of his trance, because his face was growing more and more horrified.

"I don't know what came over me, Sir. I don't know why I brought them. I don't know what happened," Smee stuttered.

Hook cut him off with a sneer and a wave of his hand. "Do you know anything, Smee?" Hook snapped.

"No, Sir."

"That's what I thought," Hook sighed before turning his attention back to Emma. The smirk quickly graced his features again. "Now," he started, and then suddenly he had her arm locked in a death-grip. He squeezed so hard, her bone would've easily snapped had she been human, and all the while, he was smiling at her. "What the hell do you want?"

It was Will who spoke, words coming out in anxious bursts. "Regina Mills sent us. Sent her. She's working on a case in Boston, a demon, angel, and human have all been killed. The demon belonged to you, she was a member of your circle, she had a tattoo; your tattoo."

"Just look at the pictures," Emma hissed through gritted teeth. "Look at the pictures and tell us what you know and we'll leave." Will had told her to keep herself in control because the alternative would cost them their lives, and dammit she was doing her best. But, if he kept gripping her like this, kept pushing her, she was going to lose it.

Hook studied her for a moment longer, grip getting just a bit tighter before he finally let go. He laughed as he sauntered over to the table to refill his drink. "And why on Earth would I want to help Regina?" He looked Emma up and down again and added "Or you?"

Emma couldn't help but scoff. She heard Will clear his throat from behind her, but she ignored him. Hook hadn't even looked at Scarlet since they'd arrived, he clearly wanted to go up against her. She was more than willing to accommodate. "This is one of your people and she's dead. Don't you want to find the person responsible? You could have some sort of connection to them. They may even be working their way through your crew. You really want to wait until another one of them turns up dead?"

Hook smiled and took a large swig from his glass. "Your problem, lass, is that you think I care. My people, as you so eloquently put it, can take care of themselves." He then turned so that they were facing each other head on, as if he was about to challenge her. "And if they can't, well then they deserve to die." The smile he'd been wearing their entire conversation dropped off his face, and he looked at her with an expression of unbridled hatred. "Kill them both," he commanded before he placed the glass against his lips, tipped his head back, and finished his drink as though nothing was happening.

Despite the fact that the demons in the room had to be drunk out of their minds, they all leapt up as soon as he gave the order. Emma backed up, trying to get to the door, only to discover that at some point two demons had circled behind her to block it. Hook's cronies began to pull out various weaponry, all designed and infused with the necessary items to kill divine creatures. She was going to die. She and Will were going to die. Will…

She looked over at the demon to her right and was taken aback by the look of pure terror on his face. He had placed himself in front of her as best he could, prepared to defend her from the onslaught that was coming. He was going to try and save her. He was petrified, but he was putting her first. No. He was too young for this. He had only just entered this world, he wasn't going to die for her. Not when he had a sister in the hospital who needed him. Not when he had so much to live for.

She knew Will Scarlet would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

It started off slowly. The lights got a little bit brighter, the room got a little bit hotter, and the rain came down a little bit heavier. Will was the only one who noticed, probably due to his proximity to Emma, and he shot her a questioning look over his shoulder.

"Close your eyes," Emma demanded as she stepped in front of the demon, and Will quickly obeyed.

That's when she let go.

The lights surged so brightly they nearly burst, but angels were creatures of the light, so they held fast. Pops began to fill the room as the bottles of alcohol began to explode, and Emma had the satisfaction of watching Killian look back in surprise. The french doors opened so violently, she was sure they were going to rip off the hinges. Wind and rain tore through the room, whipping her hair around her face, but she still stared him down.

And then there were her wings.

The first few times she'd released her wings, it had been painful. Like something was ripping through her from the inside out. At some point, it had begun to feel good; a massive release in pressure. Keeping that part of her locked away all the time took its toll. Sometimes, that side needed to come out and play.

She had never been particularly vain; she had features she favored over others, and she knew she was pretty, but not quite a knock-out. Her wings though, were a sight to see. They nearly touched the ground and were snow white in color. Never in her life had she seen encountered anything as strong as angel wings. They could slice right through the steel, and yet were soft to the touch. They were, as paintings and stories had predicted, also feathered, which is where demons had gotten the whole "bird" thing from.

Angel wings were something divine, otherworldly, and that's exactly how she felt as she stood in a room of people she should have the sense to be afraid of.

Hook's crew had clearly gotten over their initial shock of seeing her go ethereal, and were staring at her with looks that ranged from disgust to jealousy. They began to advance again, and Emma could tell from the look Hook was giving her, that he didn't expect her to last long.

She shot him a smug smile as she swung her right arm out, sending all those on that side of her hurdling into the wall. Hook's jaw slackened and his eyes widened as he reassessed her. Emma let out a pealing laugh and her left hand began to glow with light magic. She quickly swept her left arm out, more aggressively this time, and the demons on that side went flying back with so much force they actually went through the wall. That only left the two demons who had been blocking the door, and she could feel them coming up from behind and moving towards Scarlet. Angels had the ability to move through light, wherever it was they could be, so she quickly teleported so that she was on the other side of Will. She placed her hands on the demon's chests and sent them sprawling backwards. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Hook.

"Now, do you want to look at the pictures? Or am I going to have to make you?" She let her voice shift into something deadly at the end of the sentence, showing him she was not to be messed with.

Hook looked around at the devastation around him and did the damnedest thing. He smiled. "Oh, love, you have no idea who you're messing with."

Pain. Red-hot, searing pain pulsated through her brain. She instinctively dropped to her knees and clutched at her head. She couldn't think past the pain. She'd do anything to make it stop. There was something else though, behind the pain. Something old. Very, very old. It was probing her, poking around in the inner recesses of her mind. She did her best to block it out, but there was so much pain. She could feel an arm pulling at her, trying to get her to her feet, but she couldn't move. Whoever it was, they went away after a while. She felt an enormous pressure begin to build behind her eyelids, and she could see a hazy figure emerging from the dark. It felt familiar. Like a memory. A feeling of dread, of terror, of betrayal, shot through her, and she pushed the figure away.

And then it stopped.

Cool metal touched her face and she opened her eyes to find Hook staring at her. His hook was beneath her chin tilting her face up so she was looking at him, and their faces were so close she could've easily leaned forward and kissed him.

"Interesting," he muttered.

Emma sat there, dumbfounded by their proximity, until she realized what he'd just done and shot to her feet. Light magic shone from her hands and she raised her arms to keep him back. "What was that?" she shot.

Hook smirked. "That was just an old parlor trick I learned awhile back. I find it's very effective for keeping your kind under control." He tilted his head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow. "It didn't quite work on you. I wonder why."

Emma rolled her eyes. She sensed the fight was over, even though she could see the demons she'd knocked down getting back onto their feet. "Felt like it worked," Emma replied. The demons were edging closer to her, clearly pissed that they'd been bested. Then she realized someone was missing. "Where's Scarlet?"

Hook held up a hand and the encroaching demons stopped in their tracks. He ignored Emma's quizzical expression. "Ah, yes, your little friend. He's in Smee's office, we'll join him now that you've decided to behave."

"Why are we going to Smee's office?"

"I believe you had some photos you wanted to show me," he replied as he held open the door to the room.

Emma looked him up and down, and he was clearly amused by the bewildered expression that must've overtook her face. "What, so now you're a gentleman?"

"You bested my team and me fair and square," he explained as Emma ventured out into the hallway. Then suddenly he was right behind her, whispering in her ear. "Besides, I'm always a gentleman."

Emma shot him a withering look over her shoulder before making her way down to Smee's office. She had no idea what had caused his sudden change of heart, but she decided to run with it. At least until she could find a safe way to get out of the damn hotel.

Hook kicked the door open when they reached their destination, and laughed when Will shot to his feet. Emma didn't miss the relieved look that crossed the younger demon's face when he saw her intact. He gave her a questioning look to confirm that she was alright, and she nodded quickly.

"So," Hook started as he took a seat in Smee's chair and kicked his feet onto the desk. His expression quickly became pensive. "I don't believe I know your name, love."

Emma snorted. "You didn't even learn my name before trying to kill me, how chivalrous."

Hook raised an eyebrow and gave her a mocking look. "Wouldn't be the first time I've done that, lass." Then his expression darkened considerably before he tacked on "and I suggest you watch the attitude around me. We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened back there, would we?" He asked as he tapped his temple with his hook.

"Emma Swan." She spat back. Pain be damned, she wouldn't be intimidated.

Hook let out a humorless laugh. "Swan? That's ironic isn't it? Quite a fitting name for a bird. I must say, it suits you."

Emma gave him a bitter smile, before she quickly pulled up the photos on her phone and slid it over to him. "Three victims; two women, one male. Obviously if you can ID the other two victims, that would be helpful, but the one we want you to take a look at is," Emma swiped to the photo of the kneeling victim. "Her. Whoever did this, they took it easiest on her. It could mean that they knew her, or that they're partial to demons-"

"Not partial enough not to brutally murder her though," Hook interrupted.

"Keen observation," Emma replied. Hook's eyes flickered up from the photo and he sent her a warning glare. She ignored him. "She has a hook tattoo, so we figured she was connected to you. Do you know who she was? Or anyone who would want to kill her or someone close to you?"

Hook threw the phone down and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Her name's Lily Page," Hook started. "She came to me about, a year and a half ago, said she needed asylum. I took her in. She kept mostly to herself, quite an odd girl. Trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went."

Will scoffed. "She was a demon, trouble follows us wherever we go."

Hook scowled at Will for a solid three minutes, causing the younger demon to clamp his mouth shut and shift himself behind Emma. "Like I was saying," Hook began before his eyes flickered back to the angel. "Trouble followed her wherever she went, and not," Hook looked pointedly at Will, "the standard kind. She always seemed to be scared of something; constantly looking over her shoulder. About a week ago, she disappeared. No one really missed her," Hook shrugged.

"And now she's dead," Emma sighed.

"Now she's dead," Hook confirmed, appearing utterly uninterested in the conversation. He and Regina had more in common than either one of them would probably want to admit.

"Is there any family you know of, someone I can contact to come collect her things or release the body to?" Emma asked, and she couldn't help the hopefulness that leaked into her voice.

"The girl was an orphan, and she wasn't the type to have any friends," Hook cut in, crushing her hopes in one fell swoop.

Because Emma recognized herself in the picture that was being painted. Orphan. No friends. No one to call. It could've easily happened to her if she hadn't had Henry, or David, or Mary Margaret. She could've been Lily Page. In some ways, she still was.

Maybe he saw the disappointment on her face, maybe he was just trying to get inside her head, but Hook looked up at her and asked, "You alright, Swan?"

She simply nodded. "Fine. Thank you for your help, Boston PD is very appreciative," she replied as she made her way to the door. Will quickly turned on his heel and followed her out.

He didn't stop them.

She rode down the elevator in silence, going over the case details in her head. They were getting somewhere, she could feel it. Something about Lily Page was nagging her, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She needed to get back to Boston and see if she could start connecting dots. Maybe they could ID the two other victims with this new knowledge.

When they got to the lobby, Emma reached into the backpack Will had been carrying and pulled out the heavy black cardigan she'd been wearing earlier. She pulled it tightly around her body as they made their way back into the New York downpour. It felt good to be outside again, away from all the madness. Emma lifted her face to the sky and sighed.

"Whad'a we do now?" Will asked in an almost childlike tone.

Emma laughed. "Back to Boston, I suppose. I'll see what I can do with this information, and I imagine Regina is missing your smiling face."

Will gave her a toothy grin. "I am quite entertaining."

"No arguments there," Emma replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a homeless man leaning up against the hotel, white paper cup in her hand. She could tell he was good, could feel the light radiating out of him. She fished a few bills out of her cardigan pocket and made her way over to him. It would make her feel better to do something good. Angel's fed off positivity and good deeds. As she dropped the money into the cup, she could feel the gratitude rolling off of him, and it made her feel good.

Their eyes met briefly, he was older and had clearly seen his fair share, and his expression quickly morphed into one of shock. Emma watched in confusion as he gave her a toothy grin, glee overtaking his features. It had to be the aura she was giving off, it was designed to make humans feel good, but she'd never had a reaction quite like this one.

Then, ever so slowly, he raised a dirty pointer finger to his lips as though he were telling her to be quiet. The smile never left his face, and Emma could only reciprocate the gesture, before she made her way back to Will. Maybe he was crazy…

"That was weird," she started as she stuck a hand out to hail a cab. Maybe it was her outfit, but five cabs screeched to a halt.

"What?" Will asked as he held open the door.

"That man over there he-" she began but was interrupted by the shiver that rocked her body.

"Swan," someone yelled out and Emma pinched the bridge of her nose as she turned to see Hook making his way over to her.

"What the hell?" She replied when he reached them.

"That's no way to greet your key informant" Hook smirked.

"What do you want?"

Hook sighed. "I was thinking about what you said, about this possibly being about me, and I think it's best if I come with you." He wasn't meeting her eyes.

"You want to come with us? To Boston? To help?"

His head snapped up and he sneered. "That's what I said isn't it, Swan?"

Emma was the one who stepped forward this time; invading his personal space. She kept her voice low as she asked, "Why do you really want to come?"

He waited a long time before responding; brow furrowing and ocean blue eyes staring deep into her own. "If this has something to do with me, I want to make sure that whoever is responsible is handled appropriately."

He was lying. She didn't know how she knew; if it was her unparalleled instincts, or if he just wasn't trying to hide it, but she knew.

And even though she knew she was dancing with the devil, she still said, "Get in."


End file.
